Our Sacred Honor

Kurt paused. “Ten minutes later, Iran informed the Israelis that they will counter any Israeli attack by launching nuclear weapons. In the same statement, they indicated that any Israeli attack will be grounds for Iran to launch nuclear weapons at the American air base in Doha, Qatar, as well as the large American embassy complex in Baghdad.”

The room went dead quite for several seconds. Luke, standing in a corner, watched the looks on the faces. Several people blushed, as if they were embarrassed. Others stared with wide eyes and mouths hanging slightly open.

“Iran doesn’t have nuclear weapons,” someone said. “They can’t.”

Kurt shook his head. “Every international agreement and accord states that Iran is not a nuclear-armed state, and is forbidden from becoming one. But that doesn’t mean they haven’t acquired nuclear weapons. Amy, give us Iran, please.”

A new map appeared on the screen – Iran. The map gave Luke a sinking feeling. He had been to Iran. It wasn’t his favorite place in the world.

“The Islamic State of Iran is a Shiite Muslim theocracy. We know that they have harbored an ambition to acquire nuclear weapons since at least the 1979 Islamic Revolution.”

“But if they ever tested a nuclear weapon,” Susan said, “we would know about it.” It was the first time she had spoken since the meeting started.

“It would be nice if that were true,” Kurt said. “Deep underground testing facilities are proliferating everywhere in the world – they are very difficult to find and map. Advanced radiation detection systems can account for, down to very small amounts, radiation released into the atmosphere. We can combine that with our ability to measure the force and direction of prevailing winds, and determine with a fair amount of accuracy where the radiation is coming from. But when I say a fair amount of accuracy, what I mean is to within several hundred miles. Given Iran’s proximity to Pakistan – which is a known and accepted nuclear-armed state – it’s hard to pinpoint a radiation source and say for sure it’s in Iran.”

“But those tests have seismic signatures,” Susan said. “They’re practically like earthquakes.”

Kurt nodded. “And that’s what makes Iran doubly challenging. It is one of the most seismically active places on the planet. Earthquakes are common there, and frequently devastating. The most recent disaster was in 2003, when a 6.6 magnitude earthquake killed at least twenty-three thousand people in the city of Bam. But disasters aside, seismic activity in Iran is nearly constant. We monitor it on a daily basis. Listening for an underground rumble in Iran is like listening for waves to crash at the beach. It happens all the time.”

“What are you saying, Kurt?” Susan said. “Just say it.”

“Iran could build and test nuclear weapons,” Kurt said. “And we might not find out about it.”

Instantly, an idea occurred to Luke. It was just one of those things. There is a question, and your mind spits out the answer. You don’t have to like the answer, but there it is in front of you.

“Why don’t we send in a covert infiltration team?” he said. “They could go in and find out if this is a bluff or not. If it isn’t a bluff, they discover the location of the nukes, and call in air strikes.”

Admittedly, he didn’t have the entire plan worked through, but once he said it out loud, he could see the wisdom in it.

“We don’t have the necessary people in place for that kind of deployment,” said a man in dress greens. “It would take weeks or even months – ”

“General, I beg to differ,” Luke said. “We do have the people in place. My own organization, the Special Response Team, is ready.”

CHAPTER NINE

8:15 a.m. Eastern Standard Time

The West Wing

The White House, Washington, DC

“This is a disaster,” Susan said. “It’s crazy. I’m not going to allow it.”

They were walking back through the West Wing to the Oval Office, three of them – Susan, Kurt, and Kat Lopez. Susan’s and Kat’s shoes clacked on the marble floor. Three big Secret Service men trailed them; two walked in front.

The double doors to the Oval Office were just up ahead, a large Secret Service man on either side. Susan and the swarm of people around her were all walking so fast, it felt like she was being sucked toward the office on a conveyor belt. She felt out of control. She did not want to have this meeting. A couple of months ago, sending her best agents on a life-threatening mission wouldn’t have rattled her cage all that much.

“Susan, we have another problem,” Kurt said.

“Hit me.”

“The Israelis are no longer sharing casualty assessments with us, or keeping us updated on their plans. Yonatan Stern is furious. He wants to attack Iran immediately, and we have asked him to hold off from doing that. He is already pounding southern Lebanon to dust, but Hezbollah is still launching missiles. He calls these attacks, and the Iranian threat with no clear way to respond, a humiliation, and he blames us for it. He is ready to kick our ambassador out of the country. He wants to speak with you directly.”

Susan shook her head. “This day keeps getting better and better.”

They passed through the double doors and into the Oval Office.

“Do you want me to schedule a call with him?” Kat said.

Susan shrugged. “Sure. I’ll talk to him. Kurt, can you have someone draft me my talking points? What am I supposed to tell him? Why can’t everybody just be friends? Why don’t you just bake those guys with the missiles a cake?”

“Of course,” Kurt said, and peeled off into a corner of the office, already on his telephone.

Kat disappeared back out through the doorway.

Susan gazed around the Oval Office. In front of her, three tall windows, with drapes pulled back, looked out on the Rose Garden. Outside, it was a sunny day in early winter. There were several people in the room. Luke Stone sat in a high-backed chair in the sitting area. Beneath his feet was the Seal of the President of the United States. Sitting beside him was big Haley Lawrence, the Secretary of Defense, who looked like he had been gaining weight – the additional bulk somehow took on the appearance of baby fat, making a man well over six feet tall seem a lot like a little boy.

There were two other men in the room, both standing. They wore dress green military uniforms – men who Susan guessed were in their mid-fifties, very fit, with crew-cut hair. They could be twins – Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

“Madam President,” Tweedledum said. He reached out a hand to her. “I’m General Steven Perkins with the Defense Intelligence Agency.”

She nodded to him as his hand swallowed hers in a firm military grip.

“General.”

Tweedledee also reached out for his shake. “Madam President, I’m Mike Sobchak with Naval Intelligence.”

“Admiral.”

She shook her head. “Okay, men, where are we on this?” Susan said. “What kind of scheme have you and Agent Stone cooked up?”

Kurt was back, having murmured into his phone for all of eleven seconds. “Please shut the door,” he said to the Secret Service men.

“It’s a highly classified mission,” Haley Lawrence said.

Susan shrugged and made a spinning gesture with her hand. “I figured as much. So give it to me.”

“We send a small team to Israel on a State Department plane,” Kurt said. “We’ve already sent three State Department planes since yesterday, so to anyone watching it might seem like more of the same – crisis diplomats flying in to try to defuse the situation.”

“I’m sure no one suspects that we’re going to send spies in,” Susan said.

“When the team arrives, it will be briefed by Israeli intelligence on possible locations of Iranian nuclear sites. The team will coordinate with the Israelis to design an infiltration, and then drop into Iran under cover of darkness. The team then makes their way, by whatever means available, to the most likely sites, and either confirms or discredits the existence of nuclear weapons at those sites. If weapons are found, they call in air strikes on those coordinates, which destroy the weapons in their silos.”

“Air strikes by whom?” Susan said. “Americans or Israelis?”

“Americans,” Tweedledum said. “By definition, those strikes will have to be powerful bunker busters dropped from high altitude. Most likely, MOABs dropped from B-52 bombers, and that’s if we can even take out the bunkers with conventional weapons, which is not guaranteed. We don’t believe the Israelis have those capabilities.”

“We don’t believe?” Susan said. “Don’t we know?”